


germ warfare

by corvidae (MeMeMe)



Category: In Other Lands | The Turn of the Story - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: BACK ON MY BULLSHIT, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, extreme tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:49:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeMeMe/pseuds/corvidae
Summary: Elliot was freezing and exhausted and his head was pounding, and he didn’t feel up to being fair right now.





	germ warfare

Elliot lost it right around the time that Golden called him a baby.

Technically, what Golden said was “ _I hadn’t realized human men were so vulnerable to illness. For elves, dittery is only a minor ailment suffered by children,”_ but it was clear from his arch tone that what he meant was “ _you are such a baby.”_

There was nothing _minor_ about the way Elliot was feeling. “Lots of childhood illnesses are more severe if contracted in adulthood,” he snapped. “Read a book once in a while.”

He knew he wasn’t being exactly fair. Golden read books all the time. But Elliot was freezing and exhausted and his head was pounding, and he didn’t feel up to being fair right now. Anyway, the elves had committed _germ warfare_ against him, a visitor from a foreign land with unknown biological differences, and now he was half-dead from their endemic death-flu, so, on second thought, he’d been perfectly fair.

“We’re not,” Luke said. Like everything else he said to people who weren’t Elliot, he said it with perfect authority. “He’s fine.”

“How would you know?” Elliot grumbled as Golden slipped away. He wanted to ask how much Luke knew about epidemiology, but he didn’t because his throat hurt too much.

“Because I’ve had dittery, like everyone else this side of the Border,” Luke explained. “It’s really not a big deal. You eat some soup, take a nap, and you’re back to training in less than a week.”

Elliot suspected Luke was minimizing deliberately. “If it’s so common in the Borderlands, why is this the first I’ve heard of it? Shouldn’t the other kids at the Border Camp have been infected?”

“ _They were,_ ” Luke said. “There was an outbreak in the first year cabins almost every year. It must have skipped you because you were so annoying no one wanted to get close enough to give you their germs.”

Oh. “Then why--”

“Oh my god, Elliot, please,” Luke said. “Please stop talking. Your throat sounds so bad it’s starting to hurt _me,_ now.”

“You love my voice,” Elliot croaked.

Luke refused to be baited. “All the more reason for you not to put it in the-- what’s the thing? With the blades that go fast?”

The thing with the blades that go fast? “A blender?” At Luke’s blank face, Elliot kept guessing. “A lawn mower? A… oh, a garbage disposal.”

“A garbage disposal.” Luke nodded. He sat beside Elliot. “Just stop complaining and rest, so you’ll have some voice left when you start to feel better.”

“ _If_ I start to feel better.”

“Elliot, come on,” Luke sighed.

As a source of sympathy, Luke left a lot to be desired. But the literal warmth of his solid chest felt good against Elliot’s aching bones, so he leaned into it. All the more so when Luke wrapped an arm around him.

“Hmm.” Luke stroked the side of Elliot’s face with his other hand. “You feel feverish.”

“Told you so.” Elliot snuggled more deeply into Luke’s embrace. He _had_ said he thought he had a fever, earlier this morning. Luke had called him _dramatic._ “Because I’m dying of an elf plague.”

“You aren’t _dying_ ,” Luke said, but his arm tightened around Elliot’s waist in a way that Elliot found extremely gratifying.

Elliot let out a pathetic cough.

Luke stroked his face again. “Would you like some tea?”

Elliot considered it. Tea in the Borderlands was not everything he might hope, but it would be hot and soothing, and Luke would probably put honey in it. On the other hand, Luke would have to get up, and that would mean Elliot had to move, and that sounded undesirable. He shook his head.

Luke frowned. “Is your throat horrible? You haven’t been eating. I got to eat my own jam this morning, and my pudding last night. You’ve got to keep your strength up. Tea might help.”

He shook his head again. In all honesty, his throat _was_ horrible, and tea did sound nice, but it was too much effort. He was so tired. He pressed his fevered face against Luke’s chest and made a noise that he hoped communicated _I am already mostly asleep and will be responding to no further questions_.

It must have worked, because Luke chuckled softly. “Later, then.” A wing came from above and settled atop Elliot, enveloping him in three hundred and sixty degrees of Luke Sunborn. Luke ran his fingers along Elliot’s hair, careful not to catch any tangles. Unlike the various nannies and babysitters of his youth, Luke never hurt when he pulled on Elliot’s hair. His touch, even the compulsive grooming, was always gentle.

Elliot wanted to tell him this, but all that came out of his mouth was another slurred “ _mmmmgh.”_

“Rest, baby,” Luke murmured, and kissed the top of Elliot’s head. He hummed a snippet of some unfamiliar lullaby. Luke couldn’t carry a tune for love or money, and usually he got all nervous and quiet if he thought someone might want him to, but Elliot would find a way to make him sing this one again sometime, when he was sharper, so he could memorize it. It would be nice to return the favor if he lived through this disease, to sing Luke to sleep with a song Rachel or Michael must have sung to him when he was small.

Or, who knows. Maybe one day they would sing it to someone else. He'd be good at that part, at least. Luke would be good at the rest.

When Golden returned, Serene in tow carrying a tray with tea and puddings, it was to find the pair of them asleep, Elliot’s flushed cheeks barely visible under the wing he was wearing as a blanket.

“They’re awfully sweet like this,” he whispered.

Behind him, Serene hummed in agreement. “Luke will make an excellent father. He’s dealing very well with Elliot.”

Golden blinked at her. “I do wonder at times whether women see the same world as men do. Luke Sunborn has not been dealing well at all.” He shook his head. “It will take a lot of practice before he is ready for a real baby. Human men have not had the advantage of an education in fatherhood.”

Serene graced him with the hint of a smile. “Are you saying, my dear, that you are ready for a baby?”

“Cranky Elliot is baby enough for now,” Golden chastised lightly. “Once we’ve seen him through dittery, perhaps.”

“I suppose these puddings are ours,” Serene considered, “since they are asleep.”

“Yes, I suppose they are.” Golden kissed the tip of her nose. “Come, let them rest. We can bring them tea when they wake.”

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this google doc was titled "baby" and when I returned to it today after months of ignoring it, I forgot it didn't really have a baby in it.


End file.
